I race down the alleyway—try the other door and it opens—but the dog's throws itself onto my back. It's sniffing through my hair—trying to bite my neck.
I slam my back into the wall. My teeth jitter. My heart pounds. I hear a crack and the creature whimpers. Rolls to the ground.
I turn to look. Clench my hands into fists. Wring my fingers against my thumbs. Turning on my heel, I walk towards the door to Shanti's loom room. Press my hand to the wood—freeze.
It's raining. It's wet and cold and the thing's whimpering behind me.
It just tried to kill you—
But I grind my teeth. I clench my fist.
I can't just leave it out here to die.
I turn around, looking the creature in the eye.
Its rabid—it's going to die anyway. Let nature take care of it.
But I can't. It whimpers when I come near. It tries to pick itself up, but can't because its left paw hangs limp. I broke it. I've broken an animal.
I shush it. Pick it up and cuff it on the ear when it growls a warning that dissolves into a baby-like whimper.
I take it inside and shut the door to the cold, but there's no heat in here. No fire to keep us warm.
I'll just try the door later. Maybe someone will come looking for me.
Everything will be fine.
I hope.
I set the creature down. It whimpers—snarls. Its gratitude quickly changes to anger—but I shush it. Hum to it.
I sing.
…
Hours later, when darkness covers all, I bring my hand to the dog's chest, ruffling its fur.
No heart beats. Its legs are limp when I pat them, when I bring my fingers to its soft head.
It's dead.
And I've killed it.
…
When Shanti finds me, she cries.
9. Ere the Dream
Shanti rushes me into Akane's parlor. The light of the moon curls through the bay window to my right as Akane steps out of the shadows. White light hangs heavy shadows beneath her eyes and lips, framing her as a midnight wraith. Fiery hair stands as a bushy crown about her oval-shaped head. Her body blocks us—though Shanti does not see—and I slam into Akane. The redhead catching me as Shanti rams into my back. Behind me, I hear her sob. I hear the palms of her hands slap to the tiles of the floor as she cries. As she moans.
“What have you done to this girl?” Akane snaps. She moves to stand in front of me, hands on her hips as she hisses darkly. “Shanti—what have you done?”
I tap Akane's shoulder. “Nothing—I—,”
“I—fool that I am—told her to go outside. I-I told her to…guh…” I watch black kohl trail down Shanti's face like dirt as she moans deeply. As her shoulders wrack with her sorrow. Akane watches—frozen. Hands on her hips. Feet squarely planted. “…I never wanted you to run, my darling—I-I'm…” but she can't pull herself together long enough to form sentences as she cries. Moonlight shifts from the table, trickling towards her as it leaves Akane and I in the dark.
“Shanti—I-”
But Akane shushes me with a look. Hard emerald eyes glow in the dark. The eyes of a cat.
Suddenly—I feel the pain from earlier. The bite marks on my arm and back. The rip in my foot—the bite mark deep and long. A pink gash.
My dress hangs from me in purple tatters. Beneath it, the shift has gone muddy and dark. Blood—dark blood is everywhere. It browns on my torso. On the skirts.
I—I killed something.
I feel like I might faint.
“Go upstairs.” Akane growls, her voice a low warning. “And go to bed.”
“But she's hurt—this is my fault! This is my problem!”
“And I'll fix it.” Akane hovers over Shanti as the sobbing woman pulls herself up from the floor. A ruddy face stares into one that is as hard as glass. The tension makes me swoon.
“Go. To. Bed.”
“No—she's my sister! She's mine.” the last word is a venomous hiss.
I can't stand this.
They square off against each other. One is hugged by light, the other swathed in darkness.
I force myself between the two. My head aches. Warmth burns through me.
“Enough!”
Both women snarl at me—but their faces soften.
As I fall—my head airy and light. My whole body burning.
Like I'm on fire.
…
I wake in a tub of cool water. It's made of tin—and too small for me. I am in a room I have never been in before. The walls are a creamy white—soft. I crane my head behind me and see a white screen lined with dark wood panels. The door slides slightly open as a bare foot kicks it. I hear Shanti's voice.
“I'll leave this here—of course, my dear—I promise.”
A soft swoosh of feet as she leaves. Her silhouette is dark against the white screen of the door as she disappears. As another person bends to pick something up. As the foot reappears in the gap in the door—and I realize I'm naked. I move to cover myself as Akane invites herself in. Slides the screen to a close as she brings an armful of clothing towards me.
“Don't worry—we're girls here, right?” she chuckles deeply, laying the clothing near the tub. “Besides, you've been in there for quite some time now. Shanti's idea—we saw something bit you. Figured the heat would sweat away infection. How are you feeling?”
The green sleeves of her long tunic have been stained with my blood. I look at the arm the dog bit. Roll my palm over and examine the marks. I wiggle the toes of my injured foot. “Fine—I guess.” I sigh, my arms fall back into the water. Instinctively, I cover my breasts. “T-thank you.” I tell her—heat rushing to my face. “I feel a lot better.”
Akane nods. “That's good to know. Shanti sends her apologies—uhm,” she rubs a hand upon her neck—averting her eyes to the far corner of the room. “as do I. Naia…I'm sorry you had to see that.”
“I'm glad it's over.”
“Yeah,” she nods. “me too.”
I am in Akane's room—off to the left side of the hallway. She sleeps alone.
“When there were more girls here,” she tells me as I dry off—I wince as the tattered cloth catches at the marks on my neck as I dry my hair with it. “there would be three to a room—including mine. Right across from here is another room—vacant. Would you like to sleep there? Spend some time away from Shanti?”
I think on this—but I shake my head. I don't think I could ever sleep alone again—not with the dreams I have. “I don't mind her.” I tell Akane honestly. “I've known her for part of my life—we'll get over this.” If there is anything to get over.
When I turn to leave, a new gown of scarlet petals covering me, Akane stops me. “Hey, Naia?”
I stop, turn to face her. I cock my head.
Emerald eyes are stones—her worried gaze replaced with one of determination. With one of control. “Don't ever go out there without one of us.” her voice turns dark—her face darker. “The things that soul showed you? They're true—whether you believe it or not. Half the city's left for fear of an army coming from the west—and they aren't wrong. Things are going to get worse out there, girl. And someday—you might have to fend for yourself. But while you're under my roof, you're under my protection. Got it?”
I swallow. Gracelessly, I nod.
…
Days later, I catch a fever as a house across the street catches flame. There's screaming. There's a massive stamping of a thousand feet in the mud and chanting. People roar and the fire roars back. They're screaming names—three names—over and over. Cursing them. Damning them to the four circles of the underworld. I approach the hallway's window and bring my fingertips to it's wooden lip. My arms tremble slightly as I bring my eyes to look. To peer at the crackling orange and the growing cloud of angry people. I gasp as they begin to throw things—powder?—and the firelight dances with delight at what it's fed. It crackles and spits—showering the crowd in a thousand embers.
A body sidles down ne
xt to me. A recognize Chima's brown bob as she raises her face to hover near mine—staring at the fire. Listening. A hand grabs my shoulder and I freeze. “Shouldn't you be abed? Kokoros said you should be sleeping—you feel hot!”
Nyx's voice. But I don't dare peel my eyes away.
“What are they screaming about?”
“'Samiya! Aranka! Takari! Selling our city! Selling our souls!'” Nyx repeats the chant behind me, whispering the hissed words.
“The merchant p-princes of Felicity,” Chima tells me, backing up from the window when the fire roars again—enticing the crowd to roar with it. “The rest…” she shakes her head. “…it c-could mean anything…” when my eyes wander to her own, she blushes and looks down into her hands.
“It means they're gonna burn Felicity so the westerners can't have it—it makes perfect sense, Chim! They're calling the merchant princes because those three think they have the power to just give Felicity away—I guess,” she quickly adds. “honestly, this is all just kind of normal.”
Is it normal to burn your own land? I shake my head at that. “And why do you say that?”
Nyx taps her fingertips upon my shoulder. “Ah, ah, ah! You aren't getting out of bed rest by asking me tons of questions! Chima—help me drag her!”
I sigh dramatically, rolling my eyes for effect when I turn to face Nyx. I smile. “I'll be fine.” I tell her. But she shakes her head and rams a finger towards the room Shanti and I share.
“To bed sickling!”
…
But I lied.
Though I felt fine that day—things became worse.
With each passing day, as the seasons changed and the world grew colder, the fever burned hotter. I couldn't hold food down—and nor did I want it. My stomach flipped. My foot and arm twitching erratically as my neck burned as if the dog had recently bitten me. My head ached as a fog crept in and held my mind. Soon I forgot names—forged the faces of the girls from the Orthella onto the faces of the girls I lived with now. Everything confused me and I could barely keep water down as I sweated through my blankets. As the world turned upside down—my stomach turning with it as I'd roll over in the night and vomit on myself, bile coming up. Nothing coming up.
Is it my time, dear Fates? I'd ask in moments of clarity—fleeting as they were.
And sometimes I would sing…my voice petering out as my mind gobbled up the lyrics. As the fog rolled in and constricted my mind. Frustration would churn up tears, replacing my singing voice with a choked sob—my songs gone for what felt like forever.
Then—my fever would produce ghosts. Figments of heated hallucinations. I'd…see things. People—places.
One night, I saw Althea.
All gray hair tied tight into a topknot, the bulb of hair decorated with a large crescent painted gold.
I blinked—my mind silent.
“You're here.” I whispered. “Finally.”
And my hands reached for her. Slowly, as if they were climbing the very air.
“Did you know that I loved you?”
I freeze.
“I loved you very much, Naia, sweetheart. Please—look into my face.”
I see withered eyes—old and haggard.
“You're not painted.”
“I am somewhere cold, Naia. Very cold and very damp. I fear I may not last the night.”
I want to choke her—to wrap my fingers around her thin neck. I want to watch the life roll from her eyes.
“You took my home.” I hiss—, “You took my HOME!”
But she hushes me—quietly. With a long finger to her lips. “You'll wake the house.” she tells me, her eyes smiling. Crinkling. “You'll wake your sisters.”
And I crack her hard across the face—crying—laughing—thrashing because I can't help it. I curl my arms into myself and sob as she rubs her face.
As she looks down at me—her face glowing. “You will live on and on, touching many lives with your voice. But—tonight—I die at the hands of the invader. And I've come for forgiveness. For your forgiveness, Naia. Will you let this old soul have that?”
My fingers twitch as they curl beneath my chin. My stomach rolls as my mouth becomes a hard line. I feel empty. Hollow. Lost, alone, and dead. “I want to go with you.”
“It is not your time.”
“I feel like it is. I feel like I might…”
“You will survive this. You will endure more. Naia, will you grant me your forgiveness?”
No.
I pause.
“You took everything from me.”
She nods. Sighs. “I understand.” the crescent upon her head glints.
Hands touch my shoulders—slowly, moving inch by inch—minute by minute. I watch them grab me. I feel them move me—shake me. But it's as if I'm not in my body—I can't feel it. I've gone numb as Althea stands before me. Her arms do not touch me—the arms come from my left.
Shanti.
I swallow bile. “Go in peace, spirit.”
“Very well.”
“Naia—Naia, it's only a hallucination! You're okay—I'm here, Shanti's here!”
I grab hold of her arms—my eyes lock with her own. She gasps, her hands freezing—moving from my shoulders. Hovering. “Are you…”
“Thank you, Shanti.”
“You're—,” she swallows, purple eyes puzzled. “—you're welcome.”
…
The morning comes with rolling golden light that pours through the hallway outside my room, light filtering through the cream colored paper of my door.
And a silhouette dances before the paper as it cranes its neck forward, dips one toe to the floor outside and stops. Looks to the right and left. It pulls itself from the room opposite—slowly, quietly—and it turns to softly slide a paper door shut behind it. When the panel snaps the figure jumps—squeaks with a high-pitched peep—and moves itself up the hallway. Stops halfway. Doubles back to place a hand upon my door.
I snap my eyes shut when the door is slowly peeled back. “Naia,” a voice murmurs, the tone watery—unsure. “I'll see you soon.”
When my door shuts, I snap open my eyes just as the window in the hallway screeches. Before it's forced open with a crack and the figure's gone.
Taken by the harrowing melodies of a morning wind.
…
I feel as though a couple of months have passed before I am finally able to sit up on my mat without feeling the world spin. I gaze over at Shanti's mat to find it empty. I come onto all fours. I pull myself to our shared window and push up the flaxen blinds. Slowly, I peer out over the lip of the window and into the snow caked alleyway below.
Soldiers.
10. Cutting Ties
Behind me, the door is flung open with a whoosh of cold air.
“Change into this—” Shanti's voice. Cloth hits me and I spin around. “—quickly—”
I pull a long tunic from the ground, along with breeches and leather boots. “Why?” I ask her, holding the garments. They smell like salt. “Why are there soldiers down there? What's going on?”
Strength ebbs through me. The fever heat gone. I feel new.
“Bad things.” Shanti snaps as she moves about the room. She rolls up her mat and throws her pillows to the wall. “Hurry up—I'm not sure what's going to happen next, but I've got an idea about how to handle it.”
“But you don't know—”
She rounds on me. Violet eyes flash. “Put the clothes on.” she snaps. “If you value Kokoros and I, you'll do as I say.”
I shrug off my shift, throwing on the thin tunic. I pull on the breeches and boots, one foot after the other. I've barely got my right foot completely into the boot before Shanti's at my back.
Cold steel kisses the nape of my neck.
I turn on my heel and shove her.
“I need to cut your hair!”
“No.” I tell her. I can't. I can't let her.
With my zither gone—and the Orthella nowhere in sight—my hair is all I have to remind me of w
here I come from. Of my status as a songstress. This is it.
“No.” I repeat, clenching my fists at my sides. “I won't let you.”
Purple eyes narrow into slits. “You'll do as I tell you.”
I shake my head.
“Do you care about us? Kokoros and I?”
“I'm not—I'm not letting you cut my hair.”
“Do you want to be raped, Naia? By those men down there? Do you know where they come from?”
I wince at the word. She spews it like poison. I shake my head. “What's going on?”
“The invader has sent men to inventory the people and homes of Felicity. They will be back and they will take everything—people, things—women! Have you lived through war, Naia? Have you lived beneath the fist of a dictator?”
I shake my head.
“You'll be safer as a boy.”
But I can't part with it—a songstress is never to cut her hair. Never.
“They will be back, Naia.” her voice is low. A warning. “And when they realize that Kokoros has lied to them—that you and Chima aren't boys—they'll take both of you from us. They'll kill Kokoros and I for lying. They'll rape you.”
I swallow.
This is it—this is all I have. My hair—the hair of a songstress.
But I…I never earned the title. I performed for the house mother, but she never bestowed me with the title.
The title of Songstress.
Truly…
Truly, I wasn't a songstress.
Then what am I?
What am I?
A lump forms in my throat and I swallow. I feel myself grow cold. I bring my eyes to the floor.
“Cut it.”
11. Flight of the Swan
Shanti cuts my hair short. Shorter than it's ever been.
Long black locks tumble down my shoulders. They slide through the gaps between my fingers like water darkened by a starless sky. They fall to the floor. Lifeless.
A weight has been lifted from me—a soft, beautiful, weight and I feel my chest tighten.
With tender hands, Shanti carefully ties my hair high into a tail. From this height, my hair barely reaches my neck. When—just moments ago—even if I tied it up, the hair would brush my ankles. When I danced, it would flow around me as my partner. As my silken cocoon.
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